My Sacrifice
by FMAlover555 i really like that
Summary: "BOOM... "LIEUTENANT!" a man with raven hair screamed. Blood splattered his putrid blue uniform, and a small body was braced in his arms. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he wouldn't let them spill over- not yet." Royai. R&R please.
1. Chapter 1

** Uh, there isn't much to say, but thanks for clicking on my story…**

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**BOOM**

The quick firing of a gun blasted through the quiet room. The gunman had a cynical smile upon his face, not quite pleased with his work, for he did not hit his original target, but satisfied with what he did hit.

"LIEUTENANT!" a man with raven hair screamed. Blood splattered his putrid blue uniform, and a small body was braced in his arms. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he wouldn't let them spill over, not yet.

There was a small figure in his grasp, a young woman. Blonde hair cascaded down her back, falling from its hold on her head during the harsh battle. There was a hole in her uniform, right under her heart. Blood bubbled and seeped through the tear in the fabric, sliding down her back in an endless waterfall.

The bullet went right through her, making a hole on each side of her body. She had a small smile on her face, not happy, but content with the fact that she had protected him. That was all that mattered. His safety.

"LIEUTENANT! LIEUTENANT, PLEASE! Open you're eyes," the man practically sobbed. His voice had become just barely a whisper on his last sentence.

* * *

The gunman laughed. Who knew that to break him, they wouldn't have to kill him? His job was done, and he slowly stood to collect his equipment, when he felt cold metal touch the side of his head.

"You're time is up." A blonde man in the same sickly blue uniform said, pulling the trigger. Jean Havoc didn't even look back to the dead man falling to the floor as he ran to his two superior officers.

* * *

"Colonel!"

Colonel Mustang looked up from the delicate body cradled in his arms, to see his second lieutenant running up to them.

"What happened?" Havoc asked frantically out of breath.

"She took it for me," Mustang whispered.

"What?"

"I said she took it for me. She took a damn bullet in the chest for me," Mustang whispered again bitterly.

"I-is she…" Havoc trailed off.

"She's breathing, but she won't open her eyes."

"O-oh…"

"Hawkeye, I ORDER you to open you're eyes, you understand me!" Colonel Mustang ordered in a deep voice.

"You can't just order an unconscious person to open their eyes, sir!" Jean Havoc practically shouted.

"Just watch. She's never disobeyed an order before, and I KNOW she won't start now."

"You're crazy-" Havoc started, but then her eyes fluttered.

* * *

Pain. Pain was what she expected to feel. But all Riza Hawkeye felt was nothing- a bitter empty pit of _nothing_. She was content with her choice to jump in front of that bullet, and with the fact that she could possibly die from it.

_Love, is like handing someone a loaded gun, having them point it at you're heart, and trust them not to pull the trigger._

Hawkeye was disappointed with all the things she wouldn't be able to see, like see Roy Mustang become Fuhrur, but that's ok. She wondered if her friend Maes felt like this when he was murdered. Probably.

A voice was calling out to her, ordering her to open her eyes. It's an order, and a faithful dog must always obey. Her mind screamed for her to open her eyes, and it was a painful task, but she did it. Riza opened her eyes.

"Lieutenant!" Mustang cried. He was clutching her to his chest in a painfully tight hold, but it didn't matter.

"S-sir," she said feebly, reaching her hand up to clutch his shirt.

"Shh, don't waste your energy." He cooed. "Havoc, call an ambulance and retrieve the others. Now." He ordered, now addressing the panicking second lieutenant.

"Yes sir," Havoc saluted and ran off, clutching a handheld phone to his ear.

"Hang in there, Lieutenant," Mustang said, brushing her sweat drenched bangs back from her amber eyes. "You'll be okay."

Riza coughed, and blood spilled from her mouth. The metallic taste flowed over her teeth and tongue, making her want to hurl.

"I highly doubt that. B-but you're okay, right?" she asked meekly.

"Stop thinking of others and just think of yourself for once, ok?" Mustang asked, panic pressing up against his consciousness. Would she make it? Or would she leave him in this bitter, bitter world alone?

"Colonel!" Master Sergant Kain Furey cried as he saw them come into view. He fell to his knees before his two commaning officers and then called out for his comrades. "Breda, Falman!"

Everyone was there now, besides Havoc who was waiting for the ambulance. They were all on their knees, trying to keep the first lieutenant awake. She paid them no mind. She only focused on Mustang.

"R-Roy," she croaked. Blood was leaking into her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. "It doesn't hurt. It's supposed to hurt. Why doesn't it hurt?"

At one point Furey had started to cry, and Falman and Breda had bowed their heads, trying to stop the flow of tears threatning to fall. They looked up, startled. She had called the colonel by his first name. That was a bad sign.

"I-I don't know. Havoc is bringing help soon, I promise." Mustang said as he wiped blood from the edge of her lips.

Soon enough, Havoc ran into the room with a group of EMTs following begind him with a stretcher. Mustang placed her gently onto the stretcher, but when he went to release her, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her.

"S-stay, please." She wheezed, and blood flowed from her mouth and the hole in her chest. "I-I don't want to die alone. "You're not going to die!" he yelled, but complied to her request and laid beside her.

"Turn her head to the side and keep her talking!" an EMT barked at the colonel. He nodded and tilted her head to face him.

"Riza- Riza listen to me. When did we meet?" he pleaded.

"E-eighteen-ninety-nine…" she gasped. The blood was filling her lungs faster, making speech even harder.

"O-okay. How o-old were we?"

The EMTs were listening closely. They were shocked and fascinated with his questions and her answers. They were amazed at how long the two officers had known each other.

"Y-you were t-twelve and I was t-ten."

"G-good. When did you teach me flame alchemy?" Mustang asked, brushing her sweaty bangs from her eyes and caressing her cheeks.

"Nineteen-o-oh-f-five."

One of the EMTs in the ambulace fell out of his chair. _Lieutenant Hawkeye_ _taught Colonel Mustang Flame Alchemy!_

Mustang sighed in relief. She remembered important dates. He had one last question left as the ambulance pulled into the emergency wing at the hospital.

"When did we fall in love?"

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** This is a multi-chapter story. I hope you liked it!**


	2. Chapter 2

The hospital was a stark white, with the sickly sterile smell wafting off every surface in view. Over the years, Roy Mustang had learned to hate hospitals. After every bad event, every mission gone wrong, someone ended up there. Now _she_ was here, bleeding out on the gurney while nurses and doctors fluttered about.

They had rudely pushed him off the stretcher, shoving him towards the waiting room where he now sat. After they rolled her away, he just stared at the ceiling, while others gawked at his blood stained uniform. He even had blood on his face, from when it leaked from her mouth and pooled under his cheek.

Never had he felt so useless. Not when he was soaked, or when he witnessed a massacre. Not when he saw how hopeless the Elric brothers were when they were young, or even when he had to burn her back. All he could do was sit and wait. At one point he had started to pace, not caring that he was letting the blood soaking his uniform drip to the floor.

"Chief!" Havoc called, his comrades following behind him. Furey was still crying, while everyone else looked painfully close. They all wondered the same thing: will she make it? She was the constant in their lives, serving as the heart of the group.

To Jean Havoc, she was the little sister he never had, the one that told him the truth, even when no one else did.

To Hymans Breda, she was a big sister, one he looked to when everything seemed so dull.

To Kain Furey, she was like a nurturing mother, always checking on him and defending him when he was teased by the others.

To Vato Falman, she was almost like a daughter or niece. He was older than the whole group by almost ten years, but he participated just the same, and Riza always brought him in when others forgot he was there, even if she spoke in a cold tone.

To Roy Mustang- to Roy, she was a life-long partner, one that would never leave his side, no matter what. She was his light, and his heart. Without her, he was nothing but a walking corpse.

Riza had never answered his last question, for they had brutally yanked him away, despite her weak protests. He mentally swore to himself that she was going to live, even if his life ended for it, because God dammit, he was going to get an answer.

The minutes slowly rolled by into hours, the military men never moving from the room. Mustang jumped at every nurse that passed, questioned every doctor that entered the room, until finally an old man with a white beard came to them.

"Who is Miss Hawkeye's commanding officer?" he asked.

"That would be me. Is she going to be alright?" Mustang replied eagerly.

"We have just finished the surgery, and she is barely pulling through. Is there any family we can contact?"

"No, I'm the closest thing she has to family," Roy said sadly.

"Well I can only allow family members in at the moment, so you will have to wait here." The doctor said. Mustang's eye started to twitch and his fingers started to itch into a snapping position.

"Listen, _doctor_. I have known First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye for _twenty fucking years_. I made a promise to her father on his _deathbed_, that I would take care of her. I am going to see my lieutenant, whether you like it or not!" he growled lowly. Fire raged in his onyx eyes, and as soon as the doctor glanced into the dark orbs, he shivered and allowed Mustang entry.

When the double doors swung open, Mustang wanted to run. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was deathly pale, her long blonde tresses carrying a tint of blood as it framed her lovely face.

She looked like an angel, so soft and beautiful, but the bandages seeping with the blood that spilled from her chest reminded him that this was no fantasy.

Roy wandered over to the chair beside the bed and ungraciously fell into it. He grabbed her cold hand and brought it to his lips, gently brushing them against her skin. He sat and waited, because waiting was all he could do.


	3. Chapter 3

Riza always thought her death would come in some darker and more sinister way. She survived a war, went head to head with a homunculus and lived to tell the tale- she was the kind of person that made the stories, not tell them. But in an odd way, she drew solace in the fact she would most likely not make it to some ripe old age with crows feet and laugh lines. She was prepared to die young so others wouldn't have to.

One time, when she was much younger, she confided this fact in Roy. He had looked terrified. Looking back, she realized that telling him was probably the worst possible thing she could have done.

She remembered a long, long time ago- Riza must have been around two or three, at the most four- her mother had said something about death. Laying in the hospital bed with IVs shooting up her arm in twisted gnarled knots, and her hair shaven with nothing but a faded blue bandana covering the pale expanse of her skull, she had said:

"Dying is a very dull, dreary affair. And my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it."

_Maybe, when I die, I will see my mother again?_ She thought absently to herself. Riza had never allowed herself to dwell on the "afterlife", but soon after the thought passed through her, something else occurred to her.

_What if I'm already dead?_

No, she didn't think so. Faintly, she could feel the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the thick feel of anesthesia creeping through her veins, even the warmth of another hand in hers- if she concentrated enough.

But what would be the point in living again? She would need to see more death, more pain. She would sin more. What would she gain from that? Her thoughts then turned to Roy.

What would he do after she died? Would he cry? Riza hoped not. There would be no point in crying over a killer like her. But then, who would protect him? Who would throw themselves in front of the next bullet?

_"When did we fall in love?"_

If Riza could cry in her unconscious state, she would have. They had never told each other that they loved one another. It was so painfully obvious, that they never felt the need to say it. They didn't need to.

But now, now that she knew she might not make it past the next hour, she regretted never saying those three simple words. All Riza wanted to do was pull him close and tell him, just to make sure he knew. She wanted to tell him:

_"I love you"_

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**Sorry that it's been forever since I updated. Writers block is a bitch! Well, I hope I can finish my stories soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

The slam of the door hitting the wall roused Roy from his silent and dark state. His hand still clutched Riza's, gently but desperately pleading through touch for her to awaken. Glancing up at the frame, Roy saw _her_.

Long café au lait locks tied up firmly in a low ponytail, navy uniform pristine and orderly, Rebecca Catalina's appearance did not match her expression or emotions. Her teeth were grit and bared for all to see, eyes crazed with fury, no one expected what she did next.

"This is all YOUR FAULT!" she roared, lunging at Roy. "If it weren't for you, _she_ wouldn't be here! YOU'RE the one who should be in that bed, not her!"

She hit and scratched him, tore at his bloody uniform and made fresh crimson drops drip onto the fabric, all the while allowing tears to stream down her cheeks. Roy said nothing, did nothing, knowing that if he did do something, it would probably be to cry along with her.

"WHY AREN'T YOU FIGHTING BACK?!" she shrieked, losing all the fight left in her as doctors came rushing in to quell her.

"Miss Catalina, you need to calm down!" one of the doctors exclaimed.

The ringlets in her ponytail were now frizzed and wild, her uniform wrinkled and undone, Rebecca looked more like a feral cat than a military officer. Roy looked like a cat had attacked him, too. His face had long, thin scratches from her pointed nails, the uniform on his torso shredded and oozing blood. But no matter how much pain he must have felt, he still did nothing. He waited for the time to pass, the bleeding to stop, and the pain to disperse, like a flame anxiously awaits the cooling brush of the wind, feeding it to make it grow.

Roy dazedly placed a hand on his cheek when he saw the doctors looking worriedly at his face. When pulled away from his face, he couldn't focus on the smears of crimson liquid splayed on his hand. His onyx eyes saw right through it, past the red, past skin, past bone, and straight to the floor, ashamed.

Ashamed of how Riza got hurt, of the pain she must feel- or lack thereof. Ashamed of the lack of pain he himself had, lack of ability to do _something, anything_. Ashamed of the emotional pain Rebecca must feel, what the whole _team_ must feel. Ashamed of _everything_.

His eyes never left the floor, not when the nurses treated his face, not when the team rushed in, hearing of the incident with Rebecca, not even when one of the doctors updated him on Riza's condition.

_The bullet clipped the upper portion of her lung and lower tip of her heart, along with the vagus nerve. You may not know, but the vagus nerve is the widest distributed cranial nerve in the body, traveling down from the neck to the abdomen, controlling taste, muscle and gland control, cutaneous sensibility, the ability to swallow, and visceral sensibility as well. This is concerning. _If _Miss Hawkeye lives, she will no longer be able to feel the inner organs in her abdomen, mainly her intestines. Luckily because the nerve was only skimmed, that would be the only function affected, we hope. Her lung patched up well enough, but so much blood leaked in, we don't know if it can recover, though her clipped heart would only need regular check ups to assure it's functioning properly… _

By then Roy had stopped listening. She would no longer be able to feel the inner workings of her abdomen? _If_ she lives? There could possibly be something wrong with how her heart works? Her lungs could have too much blood in it to function? Roy was starting to feel like he was going to be sick.

_Though her survival rate is only about 25%... _

"T-twenty-five percent?" he cried, calculating the probability that she would die. Seventy-five percent. There was a seventy-five percent chance that Riza would die.

Roy Mustang then realized, Riza Hawkeye would most likely…

Die.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, my computer completely crashed on me a few months ago and I just got a new one for Christmas. I'll try and update all my stories soon.**

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Riza could feel her pulse slow; feel it drift from steady to erratic over time. The once perfectly timed beats became further and further apart. Her willpower was dwindling and the faces of the ones she loved became fuzzier and more faded, like old photographs. The only face that stayed perfectly clear was Roy's, his mirth-filled smirk seared into her memory.

She needed to do something, answer some kind of question, but she couldn't remember what. Riza knew it had something to do with Roy, something that he asked. It was important. But her mind was going and the once top priority things were falling to the bottom of the abyss.

Did she want to retrieve those deep buried memories from her subconscious? She remembered a war, blood and gunfire. Sweet voices of young boys and the motherly love she had for them, as if they were her own. The overpowering love of that man with ebony hair and even darker eyes. Roy. She knew him. Of course she did. He was in almost every memory she had. The good and the bad.

She remembered rambunctious laughter and kind smiles. Men that were like family. A best friend. A young blonde girl that looked like her, but had azure eyes instead of her deep wine shade. She thought the girl loved a blonde boy, who's face went with the warm voice of her 'son'. He liked her, too.

There was an evil man and monsters. A close friend gone. A young girl crying for her father. Rain.

Those were the things she remembered.

Riza fought to remember more, but the more she tried, the more it floated father into the recesses of her mind. She would try again later, but for now she would let herself float a little farther.


	6. Chapter 6

Edward frowned harshly as he strode through the stark white hallways of Central Hospital. Alphonse's crutch clicked against the linoleum floor as he raced to catch up to his brother's quick strides, sweating a bit at the brow.

To outsiders, Edward looked angry. Livid, even. But to those who knew, Edward was only scared. He was fearful in a way he never thought he would experience again.

"Brother... Will she be okay?" Alphonse asked in a small voice. He was only fifteen. It hadn't even been a year since the Promised Day, only about ten months. Even Edward was still recovering a bit. And now this.

"I don't know, Al. I don't know."

That was all he said as they continued down the hall.

* * *

They entered the ICU grimly, expecting the worst. They saw Havoc chewing anxiously on an unlit cigarette, a nurse at the station glaring coldly at him. He looked up sharply when he heard them coming, but relaxed when he saw their familiar faces. It was late.

"Hey, kid," he said softly, absently.

"How is everyone doing?" Alphonse asked kindly.

"Poor Furey's a mess, Falman's barely said a word and Breda won't leave the cafeteria for more than five minutes at a time," he spoke grimly.

"And the Colonel?" he pressed anxiously.

"He's a total wreck."

Havoc left it at that as he rose from his chair, walking to the Nurses' Station.

"These kids would like to see Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye," he said authoritatively.

Edward frowned at the use of the word "kid", but left it be. The nurse frowned as well.

"Visiting hours are over," she said.

"Please, ma'am," Alphonse pleaded, clicking up to the desk, leaning tiredly on his crutch. "She's like a mother to us."

Edwards's grimace deepened into a scowl as he heard the word "mother". It brought back bad memories.

The nurse glanced cautiously at Edward, but it was Alphonse's kicked puppy look that made her give in.

"Alright," she sighed rising from her rolling chair behind the station. "Come with me, and be quiet."

They walked quietly down the hall, stopping at a thick wooden door.

"She's still in a comatose state, non-responding," she said, pushing the door open after swiping a small keycard in the slot on the doorknob.

Edward's eyes skimmed over the sterile room, but immediately fell on the bed centered in the room. She was pale and thin- frail. Moving his eyes to the left, Ed saw _him. _Roy.

Edward was furious with the man. His "stupidity" got Hawkeye shot, but looking at him now, resting his head on the bedside while one hand gripped hers made him re-think yelling at him. He slept fitfully with a small frown on his face and as Edward looked closer, he saw rows of stitches down his right cheek.

"What the hell happened to him? I thought the report said he was uninjured," he asked brashly, glancing sharply at the nurse.

She flinched.

"A young woman came in and attacked him. Screamed something about practically killing Miss Hawkeye. Poor man," she sighed. "Has barley left since she came in."

Edward quirked a golden eyebrow.

"Really?" Alphonse asked, a flash of happiness shining in his eyes as he came up beside his brother.

"For sure," the nurse smiled. "We've had to force him to get up and take a break from time to time. He'd work himself to death if we let 'im."

The brothers glanced at the man again. His hair was messy and sticking up in all different places and his white dress shirt was old and wrinkled.

"How long has she been here?" Alphonse inquired, remembering the report saying nothing about her time in the hospital.

"A li'l over a fortnight I think," the woman said, frowning. "Doctors have been taking tests left and right, but nothing's coming through."

"Hm…" Edward hummed, moving towards the bed. "Have you gotten alchemists to come in?"

"We're tryin' to get it approved," she smiled guiltily.

Studying the room around him, Edward smirked.

"Can I take a look at those tests?"


End file.
